I met Sherlock Holmes
by Pippin's Quaffle
Summary: Post Reichenbach: Everybody has been told Sherlock Holmes is a criminal mastermind and is dead. What happens when a young women finds out not all of that is true through simple deduction? This is my first fanfic so please all reviews welcome!


I don´t know if anybody will believe me but I met Sherlock Holmes. That´s right _the_ Sherlock Holmes. He lived at 221b Baker Street with Dr. John Watson and is _**Dead**_. Was I crazy, maybe drunk? Was someone faking to be Sherlock Holmes? Those thoughts have crossed my mind but they don´t seem to match up with the evidence since I have never drank alcohol in my life and Sherlock Holmes is not exactly somebody you can fake in front of people who see the tabloids and newspapers every day.

I met him on a street corner near the Thames River in London, England. I had been playing the piano every Monday to collect money and get the word out about an organization that helps music programs at schools. There was a man there who came and watched me play from 11:30 to 11:45 each day. This struck me curiously and he looked extremely familiar but I could not tell who he was. He always wore the same thing, cold or warm, a black overcoat, hat and scarf that covered up half of his face. Perhaps I had seen him in a movie or advertisement.

One day when I was packing up to go to lunch he came up and talked to me. "You played and E flat when it was supposed to be an E natural in Variation 21 of the Goldberg variations."

_What an odd comment!_ I thought _that must have really bothered him._ "Oh I did? Thanks for telling me. I´ll make a note of that." I turned back to the music that I had just been playing because I knew the note that he was talking about.

"You listen to the Goldberg Variations often?" I asked making small talk.

"No, only heard them once or twice, not my favorite thing really…" He seemed itching to go but I had to find out who this guy was so I continued the conversation.

"Wow! You have an eye for detail." I was impressed. He couldn't be an actor so maybe I saw him in the papers.

"Yes I used to need that professionally." He said offhandedly.

"What did you do?" This was becoming more and more curious.

"Oh nothing really… a detective of sorts…" Then it dawned on me. His face, what he did, everything matched up! He must have seen the expression on my face and so he tried to get away. "I really should be going—"

"Wait a moment bucko—you´re—you´re Sherlock Holmes!" I shouted the last part and people started looking.

He first said "No I am not. Why would I be Sherlock Holmes?" and then he added softly "Quieter please. I wouldn't like a scene being made and neither should you, Not good for the business."

I was getting freaked out now. This was the guy who supposedly killed himself because himself because the police discovered that he had committed all these crimes that he had "solved". He was a false genius! Then something in my head didn't add up. How could he have noticed my small mistake if he had only heard the music once or twice? Even if he was lying about how many times he had heard them how could he tell it was an E natural? Perhaps his friend John was right in his "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" speech about Richard Brook being a fake and Moriarty being real. "Wait. You are supposed to be this criminal that caused dozens of crimes for the fun of it but—" He interrupted me, grabbing my wrist so that I couldn't run away.

"I am not Sherlock Holmes, the fraud. For the last time he is dead!"

I wanted to laugh at his effort in trying to persuade me that he wasn't Sherlock. Didn't he know how many newspapers had his picture in them? "You are not convincing me in the slightest. For a mastermind criminal you are a horrible liar."

"Enlighten me then. What is your evidence that I am the infamous Sherlock Holmes."

"First off your face is in every paper in the country, you did say you were a detective and had a good eye for detail—"

"Boring. That is ordinary people reasoning. There are other people who might fit that category. I can think of hundreds of reasons against that. He is dead." He repeated interrupting me yet again.

"Pshaw. You just gave me more evidence. On the television they always talked about you being rude and interrupting people in the courtroom,"

He smirked and started to say something but I held up one finger to stop him. " And you noticed that I didn't play and E natural when only a genius could have figured that out. Not even a Goldberg Variations fan like me could pick exactly which wrong note a person played."

"Good Evidence, Good Evidence." He said nodding and he still had a firm grip on my wrist which gave me another idea,

"You are also not letting go of my hand which probably means I am right and you don't trust me at all. So am I correct?"

He didn't say anything but let go of my arm.

"Cool! I guess I could be a good detective." I tried to make light of this finding but I knew it was serious for him. I wondered why did he jump if he wasn´t a criminal? How is he still alive?

He grabbed my shoulders in a discreet threatening way that I did not think was possible and hissed, "Don't you ever EVER tell a single person about this theory of yours or lives will be at stake and not just yours."

"Got it! Its Crystal clear as a freshly cleaned window!"

He nodded in approval and then spoke this time not threatening me, "I must get going, Goodbye." He turned and left abruptly.

"Wait!" I shouted after him, determined that he knew what I thought. "John Watson was right about you. I believe in Sherlock Holmes!"

He smiled in a surprised way, winked at me and then disappeared.


End file.
